


Whistle in the Dark

by SunflowerSupreme



Series: Witcher (A/B/O) [17]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, CSI Nilfgaard, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:14:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26362483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: Out of medication. Abandoned house north of town. Please help.Whistle in the DarkTo pretend to be unafraid.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher (A/B/O) [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1598041
Comments: 90
Kudos: 224





	1. Chapter 1

He was meant to be meeting Dandelion at the bar, so when he opened the door, he had to do a double take. There was no sign of the poet, no laugher, no singing, no plumed hat.

“You the Witcher?” The bartender looked up as he entered. 

“Yes.”

"This is for you," he said, passing Geralt a letter. 

The letter was written in Elder speech, obviously in an attempt to not have anyone else understand it. The handwriting was shaky, not at all Dandelion’s usual, and concern twisted in his stomach before he’d even finished reading it.

_Geralt_

_Out of medication. Abandoned house north of town. Please help._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit: WHY DIDN'T ANY OF YOU TELL ME I POSTED THE DRAFT VERSION OF THIS WHERE HALF THE SENTENCES JUST ENDED AND THERE WAS NO PUNCTUATION?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to give you a really long chapter here to make up for the last one being so short (but I'm a sucker for cliffhangers, which is why I wrote it like that).

He'd thought that Dandelion must have gotten more medication.

If he hadn't why had he left Vizima? He ought to have stayed there where Triss or Shani could have gotten him more, since they'd both been trying to help him. Coming to the swamps with Geralt wouldn't have helped him at all, there was little chance for getting help there. 

He almost stopped by the village herbalist on his way, to ask if she could help, then decided it would be better to get to Dandelion first, then see about replenishing his medication. 

Finding the bard wasn't overly difficult. He headed north, per Dandelion's instructions, and - thanks to a rainfall the night before - was easily able to follow the bard's footprints in the mud. 

"He walked until he reached the edge of town, then his pace increased," Geralt murmured to himself, studying the change in his gait, the impressions becoming deeping and further apart. 

Out of town Dandelion's steps suddenly stopped, a particularly deep impression revealing that he'd stood still for a moment, only to break into a run. "Stumbled, but didn't fall. He was in a panic, thought he heard something in the woods. Started to run." 

Around the corner Geralt nearly lost track of his prints, where the road was suddenly covered in uneven wooden planking. The edge of the plank had a mud scuff, as though a foot had caught it unevenly. "He tripped, fell there-" a few threads stuck out of the planking, the same color as Dandelion's shirt. Just off the path was a large, shallow impression "-his lute landed there. He stood and paused before walking. Checking the instrument for damage or himself?" He scanned the area and sniffed. No sign of blood. 

"He's moving slower, but he's not limping." Geralt frowned, kneeling to study the tracks for a moment, checking that he wasn't favoring one leg or the other. "Either he's hurt one of his arms or he's realized he's not suited for running over this terrain."

Dandelion's footsteps picked up on the other side of the planking, and so did his pace, although he capped off at a brisk walk.

"Paused again, looking over his shoulder perhaps- did he hear something?" Geralt instinctively glanced over his own shoulder, but if Dandelion had seen anything, it was long gone. "Started moving again, might be favoring one leg- no, I think he's carrying his bag on that side." Geralt nodded. "Shifted how he was carrying his bags, thats why he paused."

Then Dandelion's footsteps abruptly turned off the main path, following a narrow overgrown trail. "He had to have known this way here," Geralt muttered. "Has he been planning for this?" If so, why hadn't he told Geralt?

At the end of the trail was the abandoned house Dandelion had mentioned. It was even worse than Geralt had anticipated, the roof and walls seemed to be intact only thanks to the vines that had grown over them.

"Dandelion!" he called, "It's only me." It would be better to announce himself then catch the man off guard, particularly since he still had Geralt's knife. The hinges on the door no longer worked, Dandelion might have been able to squeeze himself through the narrow gap, but Geralt picked the door up and set it aside to clear his path. 

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom before he was able to see Dandelion, sitting on the floor across from the door. For a moment, he didn't appear to be breathing, then he lifted his head. "Hullo Geralt," he said dully. 

Geralt several feet away. “Are you-”

“No,” said the poet, shaking his head. “I came here as soon as I realized I was out.” He banged his head against the wood paneled wall behind him, shaking free bits of dust from the ceiling. "I hate this!" 

"It isn't your fault." 

"Of course it's not my fault," spat Dandelion, wiping at his face angrily. "I've never done a thing wrong in my life-"

Geralt resisted the urge to say, 'I doubt that,' instead letting Dandelion continue on, shouting, "and yet I'm the one who suffers. I've been unquestionably loyal to you since you came back and yet you question me at every turn! Nothing I do is good enough for you or your pompous whore. And speaking of that sorceress, I've been your friend far longer than Yennefer or Triss or Ciri and yet when it came down to it, I was pushed aside for their sakes. I followed you across an entire continent to save Cirilla and all you did was remind me of the trouble I'd caused and threaten to leave me behind at every opportunity! Instead of thanking me for my connection to the duchess which, might I remind you, saved you in Toussaint, you mocked me for wanting to just once have a relationship that might end well! Perhaps it didn't, but that wasn't my fault either." 

Dandelion picked up a fallen bit of masonry and threw it at Geralt. It bounced harmlessly off the Witcher's chest and fell to the floor. "All you do is blame me for everything. I'm left to pick up the pieces whenever your relationships sour and frankly I'm sick of it." 

Geralt crouched in front of him, uncertain what to say. He couldn't defend himself, not when he couldn't remember what he had or hadn't done. 

"I just want to drink and be left alone, but no, that's not good enough for you, you prick." 

"What can I do?" He made a conscious effort to keep his voice even, soft. Anything he could do not to traumatize the bard. 

"I need medication," Dandelion whispered pathetically. 

"There's an herbalist-"

"No!" Dandelion lunged forward and grabbed Geralt by his shirt. "Don't you dare," he said. 

"Perhaps she could make the medication," Geralt argued. 

"She won't," sniffed the bard. "I know exactly what should would do, and it wouldn't do me any good at all." 

"Why-"

"Twenty five strikes with a cane," said Dandelion, his face contorted in a strange mixture of revulsion and sadness. "Delivered on bare buttocks. For the male omega-"

"What rot are you spewing, Poetaster?" 

Dandelion flipped open his bag and shoved something at Geralt. He recognized it as the book Dandelion had been reading the past few days, always shoving it out of the way when Geralt arrived or keeping the cover hidden. He'd assumed it was some lewd romance or a book of erotic poetry, but the title caught him off guard. "The Care and Keeping of Omegas?" he read aloud. 

"Well, there's not much care," sneered Dandelion. "But that's what your herbalist would give you if you asked for suppressants. It's quite clear, here-" without warning he jerked the book from Geralt's hands, flipping it open with practiced ease - clearly he knew exactly what page the passage was on - before he began to read, "It is natural to pity the Omega, weak though they are, driven by instinct and lust. As such, many Alphas allow limited medication, to ease their discomfort, or are understanding when the Omega is caught to be medicating without permission. This is a mistake." Dandelion had a pleasant, melodic reading voice, something that was decidedly at odds with the frankly alarming nature of the text. 

"Dandelion-"

The bard talked louder, drowning out Geralt's protests, "An Omega who self medicates is to be treated first for poisoning by giving them a drink of salt water to induce vomiting. Watch over them to ensure they do not choke, but resist the urge to offer them comfort." Geralt felt sick just listening to what he was reading, and couldn't fathom why Dandelion was parroting it back at him when all he'd done was offer to find him more medication.

"Bard-" 

But again, Dandelion only grew louder, nearly shouting. His shoulders were shaking as he spoke "Once their system is cleansed of poison the Alpha should immediately instill into them the wrongness of their actions. Twenty five strikes with cane, delivered on bare buttocks. For the male Omega, this is to be followed by ten strikes with a razor strap to the testicles and another five to the anus. Then he should be mated hard and fast, with no lubricant or preparation." By the time he finished reading his hands were shaking so badly that he couldn't hold the book, and his eyes were welling with tears that he seemed to be struggling to hold back. 

His voice quiet, nearly a whisper, he asked, "Is that what you want?" 

Geralt's eyes widened. "Give me the book," he said, pulling it from Dandelion's fingers with little resistance. "This?" he said, holding it in front of Dandelion's face. "This is worse than your poetry." Then he threw it across the room.

Dandelion didn't laugh. 

"That was meant to be a joke," Geralt grumbled. 

"I know." 

He sat beside Dandelion, leaning his back against the wall. "Why would I want that?" His mind couldn't fathom any of what Dandelion had read. Who could willingly give anyone - let alone Dandelion - salt water and then beat him half to death? 

"You've changed, Geralt," said Dandelion. "I don't know you anymore. You treat Triss the same, so far as I can tell, but you look at me with distrust. That stings, Geralt, it does."

Geralt said nothing for a moment, thinking carefully over what to say, "You're a drunkard Dandelion," he said. "Do you know how much you drink?" He couldn't figure out a kinder way to explain to the bard that he was often moody and drunk, particularly since Triss had sent him to the swamp.

"I've always drank a lot." 

"Triss says-"

"I don't give a shit what Triss says!" Dandelion threw his hands up in frustration. "You've turned into a parrot Geralt, or a piss poor bard who can only sing songs written by others, except in this case it's the words of a witch!" 

Geralt closed his eyes. "I remember some things, Dandelion." He hadn't told anyone, even Triss, because there had been more important things to work on. "Not much," he added, as Dandelion sat up eagerly. "Only flashes." 

"What do you remember, Geralt?" 

"You're my friend and I'm going to help you, even if you keep quoting that fucking book at me." 

Dandelion grunted, and looked away with a scowl. "Did you know I'm nearly fifty years old, Geralt?" 

He shook his head. He'd have pegged him as closer to 30 by appearance (and 15 by his actions). "I don't know how old I am," the Witcher confessed.

"You're one hundred and twenty two." 

Geralt blinked, surprised that Dandelion had the answer so easily. "I've known you since I was twenty four, you know Geralt, that's half my life." He sighed, drumming his fingers on the ground. "My point is, there's a great deal I don't know about you, Geralt, as I've only known you but a small fraction of your life-"

"Dandelion-" 

"Just something to think about, my friend." 

Geralt studied him for a moment. He looked so out of place in his surroundings. His fine, brightly colored clothes a strong contrast to the dilapidated home they were sitting in. "I recognized you." 

Blue eyes flicked back toward him and Dandelion raised an eyebrow. 

"When we met, there was something familiar about you. I didn't feel that with anyone else."

Dandelion smiled sadly. "That's nice, I suppose. Yes, it's quite flattering. It would make for an excellent ballad."

Geralt snorted. "You have a one track mind, poet." 

"Two track," Dandelion corrected with a smile. "I also occasionally think about beautiful women." The bard let out a soft breath, closing his eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raise your hand if you love Geralt narrating himself following trails in The Witcher games like he's fucking CSI Nilfgaard. It's one of my favorite parts of the game, honestly, so I had to pay homage to it. 
> 
> Dandelion's list of things that weren't his fault are mostly things that were very much his fault.   
> \- His relationship in Toussaint ended poorly because he cheated on the Duchess.  
> \- Geralt never threatened to leave Dandelion behind, he begged Dandelion to return to safety. 
> 
> Anyway, I've been on a roll with updates here recently. I've had terrible writers block for the last few months but it's maybe getting better? And my therapist told me I needed a hobby (I don't think she meant "write kink fic with way too many feels" but hey, I think it's working).


	3. Chapter 3

They sat in silence for a time, Geralt finding himself staring at the book Dandelion had been waving about, wondering why the poet had been carrying it around. Unbidden, the poet's voice floated through his head, _“Believe me Geralt, I’m not like most omegas, I know exactly how important I am.”_ A memory, perhaps? It hadn't been a part of any of the conversations he'd had with the poet since his return. Either way, it didn't seem to be inline with any of what had come from the book. 

A part of him wanted to keep the book, to read it and see exactly what sort of nonsense Dandelion had been filling his head with, but he also found himself wanting to burn it. For the time being, he decided to leave it where it was. 

"My father was a devout believer in it." The poet's voice caught him off guard, and Geralt realized he'd been caught staring. Dandelion's eyes followed his, a look of disgust on his face as he evaluated the book. "I had the thing memorized by the time I left, you know? I've always had a good memory for prose. I prefer poetry though." 

"Why do you have it?"

Dandelion shrugged. "The herbalist had it. I bought it." 

"Why?" 

Dandelion shrugged. "How should I know, Geralt? You saw me. I wasn't thinking clearly." 

"The day you locked yourself in your room?" 

"Hmm." 

"You've been reading it." 

Dandelion licked his lips. "My hormones aren't right. My brain hasn't been working properly. Fuzzy." He tapped a slender finger against the side of his head.

_“Your hormones are fuzzing your head again,"_ Geralt said slowly. 

"Sounds like something you would say."

"I did. I remember saying that to you." He narrowed his eyes, studying Dandelion's face and struggling to remember more. "You wanted me to feed you." 

Dandelion cocked his head. "Hmm, yes, I suppose I did, when I had a bad batch of medication in Novigrad." Then he smiled, though only for a moment. "That was a long time ago, Geralt." 

"That's all I remember." He paused, then looked back at the book. "Did I know-"

"About The Book?" Dandelion shook his head. "No, Geralt, you would have been horrified." 

"I am horrified." 

A slight smile pulled at the edge of Dandelion's lips. 

"If you say something like that again, bard, I really will hit you." As soon as the words slipped from his mouth Geralt was certain they were the wrong thing to say, but to his surprise, Dandelion laughed. 

"Yes, _sir_ ," he said, butting his head into Geralt's shoulder. They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Dandelion didn’t move his head from Geralt’s shoulder, seeming to relish the contact. 

"What do you want?" Geralt asked after some time.

"What do you mean?" 

"You wanted me here," he said. "I'm here." 

Dandelion looked away, a slight pout on his lips. "I don't know Geralt. I was panicked. I didn't know what else to do, so I left that note and ran." Then he mumbled, "You ought to leave." 

"No." 

"Geralt, there's nothing you can do for me, and you have to find Salamandra." 

_Salamandra_. In his haste to get to Dandelion he'd nearly forgotten all about them. But looking at Dandelion, he found he couldn't simply leave. "Geralt, it will be days before my heat, we can't just sit here and stare at each other until then." 

"I'm not going to leave you here with that fucking anatomy book." 

"I've got other books!" Dandelion protested weakly. He opened his bag, showing Geralt a quill, notebooks, and several tomes of poetry and fiction. "You need to find Salamandra, Geralt, I will be fine here." 

He couldn't argue with that, swallowing the discomfort in his throat. "I- I'll be nearby," he said finally. "I'll check in. If you want me, during your heat, I'll stay." 

Dandelion's shoulders slumped. "Geralt, my friend, I don't know what I want." 

“You don’t have to decide now.” 

“I won’t be able to decide for myself if I wait until I’m in heat.” 

Geralt pushed himself to his feet, still uncertain. “I’ll be around,” he said finally. “Don’t leave the house. I’ll check back in as often as I can.”

“Ah, yes, of course. I can entertain myself in this dratted place.” 

“See that you stay out of trouble.”

Dandelion sniggered.

Geralt stooped and grabbed the book on his way out, ensuring Dandelion wouldn’t be be tempted to start reading it again. He paused in the doorway, glancing back at the poet who had already pulled his writing supplies from his bag. His bright clothing and well-cared for books were horribly out of place in the ruined hut, and Geralt frowned. 

“I’ll bring firewood and food,” Geralt he. “Blankets if I can find them.” 

“Don’t worry about that, Geralt,” Dandelion wrinkled his nose. “I don’t _nest_.” 

“Don’t want you to catch a chill.” 

“Careful,” warned Dandelion, shaking his feather quill. “You’re starting to sound as though you might care about me.” 

Geralt smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote locations! In case you want to go back and reread them:   
> \- “Believe me Geralt, I’m not like most omegas” - In the Heat of the Moment  
> \- “Your hormones are fuzzing your head again” - Under the Weather
> 
> Oh also, I mapped out a bunch of The Book for world-building purposes (way more than you’ve seen) if anyone is interested I’ve been thinking about posting some of it (like, with Geralt reading it and serving as a horrified narrator for the ANGST).


	4. Chapter 4

Geralt wasn’t certain his day could get any worse. After saving the villagers from the Scoia'tael Alvin had vanished into thin air, leaving the Witcher with no way to contact him or to ensure his safety.

So when he smelled Dandelion’s heat before he reached the abandoned house, all he could do was mutter, “Fuck.”

Of course Dandelion’s heat would have chosen that moment to start. Of course it would. But he stopped before approaching, forcing himself to calm. Rushing in already in a foul mood would only upset the bard further, breaking the tenuous peace they’d managed between them. 

It was a delicious smell floral, with woody undertones, filling the air around the hut, growing stronger as he got closer. His body betrayed him, already he could feel himself growing hard, but he willed himself not to think about it as he stepped up to the door carefully, calling out, “Dandelion?”

“Geerraallltttt.”

Ducking under the ruined door, Geralt took in the scene in front of him. Dandelion had stripped down to his undershirt, removed his shoes and rolled up his pant legs, but despite that he was soaked with sweat. Judging by the lines in the dirt, he’d been pacing the floor.

As soon as he saw Geralt, he was on him. The bard barreled into him, digging his fingers into Geralt’s shirt and burying his face in his neck. If he noticed Geralt’s erection pressing into him, he didn’t comment. “Help me,” he begged. Pressed together in close quarters, it was all Geralt could do not to pull him against his chest and taste his skin.

“I’m here, Dandelion calm down.” It did no good, Dandelion was desperate to pull Geralt as close as he could get, burying his face in the Witcher’s shoulder and mouthing at his scent glands through his shirt. Thinking of how much dirt was caked into his shirt, Geralt pushed him away. 

He couldn’t help but feel guilt at their surroundings. It wasn’t his fault, but Dandelion seemed to deserve much better than to suffer through his heat on the floor of a ramshackle house. If Geralt had been thinking he’d have brought something - anything - to provide him a bit of comfort. As it were the best he could do was throw a blanket on the ground and lay Dandelion on it.

The bard pulled at Geralt’s shirt with trembling fingers, struggling to get him out of it. “Calm down,” Geralt soothed. “Let me get undressed, Bard.”

To his surprise, Dandelion obeyed, clasping his hands behind his head, closing his eyes, and going perfectly still.

Geralt stripped his clothes off as quickly as he could, feeling another pang of guilt at how filthy he was. Dandelion had, despite spending several days in an abandoned house, stayed as immaculate as ever, washing up in the stream behind the hut, the only dirt on him being sweat from his heat.

“Here,” said Geralt, carefully unbuttoning Dandelion’s shirt. “Let me help you.” He frowned as the clothing fell away, revealing the bard’s bony frame. _Skinny_ , murmured a voice in Geralt's head. _Too skinny_. 

“Hmmm,” Dandelion mumbled. He said something Geralt couldn’t quite catch, finishing it with “on my stomach.”

“You want to roll over?”

“What?!” Dandelion’s eyes snapped open and he stared up at Geralt. “No Geralt. I- I’d prefer to see you.” His eyes seemed more lucid than he had been since Geralt had entered the hut, but as soon as the Witcher resumed undressing him, he moaned and his eyes rolled back in his skull again, loosing himself.

Once he was nude, Geralt paused, looking down at him. “What do you want?” he asked hesitantly.

“What do you think?” grit out Dandelion through clenched teeth. “You’re an alpha, do your thing.” Geralt studied him, his cock growing harder at the offer. _My thing_ , he mused. _My bard._

His voice husky, he growled, “Spread your legs.” _Present to me, Omega._ He couldn't help but picture it, Dandelion on his knees, face on the ground, ass in the air. Slick leaking from his ass. ~~No, not that's not right.~~

Dandelion was more than happy to oblige, spreading his legs and moaning as Geralt cupped the inside of his thighs, spreading him further, his thumbs playing in the slick that leaked from Dandelion’s hole, wondering what it would taste like, if he could coat Dandelion’s skin in it. _Make him lick it off your hands_.

“P-please, Geralt,” the Bard sobbed, struggling to buck his hips up against Geralt.

Geralt squeezed his eyes shut and rested his forehead on Dandelion’s stomach. He inhaled sharply, breathing in Dandelion’s scent. “You smell heavenly,” he growled.

“Believe me Geralt, so do you.”

Geralt licked a stripe up Dandelion’s chest, causing the bard to shiver. “Geralt- ahHHhh - for fuck’s sake, foreplay is not what I- what I wanted.”

 _Mine_ , growled a soft voice in the back of Geralt’s mind. He rubbed his neck on Dandelion’s check, pressing his scent gland over the poet, trying desperately to rub his own scent into his pale skin. _Such a whore, you can still smell them, can’t you? The others? Make him forget them, you’re all he needs._

With one sharp thrust Geralt entered him, burying himself to the hilt, a crack echoing through the room when his hips met Dandelion’s thighs. It nearly drowned out the startled yelp from the poet. _Good. Make him weep._

Geralt’s hands flew to Dandelion’s neck, pushing his head back, forcing him to strain his neck, exposing his throat. _Mine, mine_ , growled the voice. _Claim him_.

Dandelion gasped and choked as Geralt pulled out of him, leaving only the tip of his cock in his hole. Using his knees he forced Dandelion to spread further, opening himself up as much as he could, then he slammed back in with more force than before. _Breed him. Remind him who he belongs to._

The bard's hands scrambled against Geralt's trying to free his throat. Geralt snarled, grabbing his hands and forcing them over his head. Throat finally free, Dandelion gasped for breath, shaking. Then he fell back and went still, closing his eyes, seeming to accept his fate. 

_Mine._ He licked Dandelion's cheek, savoring the taste of his sweat. Grabbing Dandelion's head, he pressed their foreheads together as he continued to thrust in and out. 

Cornflower blue eyes opened. “…..Geralt?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANGSTTTTTTTTTT
> 
> -cackles gleefully-


	5. Chapter 5

“G- Geralt?” Dandelion’s voice was quiet, confused, almost frightened. The smell of fear wafted around him. It was so out of character for him that it broke through Geralt’s foggy mind, like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over him.

“Dandelion.” Geralt’s heart raced, he cast a desperate glance around the hut. What had he done?

The bard seemed lucid again, his eyes clear as he studied Geralt. Then he smiled sadly. “It’s alright Geralt,” he murmured. “You can hurt me.”

“Dandelion-“

“I’m just glad you’re here,” he whispered. “I- could roll onto my stomach. Pre-present, that’s what proper Omegas do, isn’t it?”

“No.”

“I- I think it is?” 

Geralt squeezed his eyes shut, his heart hammering in his chest. “You’re not a proper Omega,” he said tersely. “You’re Dandelion.” 

Memories swirled through his head, a confusing blur. _Dandelion, shaking in the woods. Dandelion, surrounded by scented candles. Dandelion, tied to a whipping post. “I- I need to know it’s you, Geralt,”_ _he had said, years ago_.

“You only let me take you on your back,” Geralt whispered. “It took years before you would.”

Dandelion sucked in a deep breath, nodding. “I trust you, Geralt.”

“I hurt you.” He cradled Dandelion’s head, running his fingers through his hair.

“Geralt- Geralt it’s fine.” His hand reached up weakly, catching Geralt’s and entwining their fingers. “Please, I need you.” The moment reminded Geralt that he was still buried in the bard and he shook his head.

“I’m raping you.” He pulled back, cock falling out of Dandelion’s hole with a wet squelch. 

Dandelion shook his head frantically. “No, no you’re not.”

“The voices,” he said.

“Voices?”

“I heard them when I mated you. Before,” he said slowly. He remembered that suddenly, curled with Dandelion in his lap, struggling to push down the traitorous thoughts. “I didn’t listen to them then. But I did, I did just now Dandelion.”

Dandelion pushed himself up weakly. “I don’t know what you mean, my friend.”

“They want me to hurt you.”

“Geralt, you’re confusing me,” Dandelion moaned, sprawling back onto his back. “I want to be fucked, Geralt. Please. I need it.”

“I’ll find someone else, in the village, there must be-”

“No!” Dandelion lunged, grabbing onto Geralt. “No,” he whispered. “Don’t leave me, please Geralt, don’t leave me alone again.” Tears stained his cheeks, mixing with the sweat. “You don’t have to bed me, but oh please, don’t leave!”

“I- I haven’t left.”

“You did!” Dandelion buried his face into Geralt’s shoulder and let out a pathetic sob. “You were dead,” he moaned. “You were dead Geralt and I was trapped here, oh gods, don’t do that to me again. I won’t touch alcohol, I’ll do whatever it takes to please you. Just don’t leave.”

Geralt cradled Dandelion’s head, pulling him closer and running his fingers through the bard’s hair. “I’m here now,” he promised.

“You are,” Dandelion sobbed. Then he took a breath, seeming to compose himself, “You said you remembered me, Geralt.”

“Not everything.”

“But enough.” Dandelion sucked in a deep breath, pushing himself off Geralt’s chest so they could face each other. “You-” he pressed his hand against Geralt’s chest, shaking from the effort to control himself “-I don’t know about these voices, Geralt, but I trust you.” He licked his lips. “You- you don’t have to bed me, Geralt, I- I’ll live, I will. But don’t- just don’t leave me.”

Geralt pulled him closer, crushing him to his chest. He knew he couldn’t leave him like this, even if Dandelion was offering to let Geralt watch his heat without interfering, he knew he couldn’t do it.

“You still trust me?”

“I’ve always trusted you, Geralt.”

He nodded slowly, then began to adjust Dandelion in his lap. The bard allowed himself to be moved, obediently wrapping his legs around Geralt’s waist. “I want to help you,” Geralt whispered.

Dandelion nodded. “I want you,” he whispered.

He cupped the bard’s ass, squeezing the flesh in his hands. Slowly he circled his fingers around Dandelion’s hole, feeling the slick that had accumulated there.

Then he brought one hand to his mouth and licked it.Dandelion moaned and his head fell back, “Geralt, you fucking tease.”

Without thinking, he offered his hand to Dandelion, and - to his surprise - the bard sucked his fingers into his mouth. Dandelion swirled his tongue around Geralt’s fingers, closing his eyes and whimpering with delight as though he were tasting some delicious treat and not his own bodily fluid. Remembering that one hand was still on Dandelion’s ass, he pressed his fingers inside, at the same time curling the fingers of his other hand under Dandeion’s tongue.

The bard’s moan sent a wave of desire straight to Geralt’s groin.

“Please,” he whined, around the fingers in his mouth.

Geralt’s hands flew to Dandelion’s hips and he lifted him, then in one smooth motion settled him down on his dick. Dandelion leaned his head on Geralt’s shoulder, groaning softly. “More,” he rasped.

It took several tries for Geralt to achieve a smooth rhythm, but soon he was thrusting into Dandelion steadily in time with their breaths. He moved his hand between them, grabbing Dandelion’s cock and stroking him, pulling whimpers from the bard.

Dandelion game first, spurting across their stomachs and the clench of his ass was enough to send Geralt over the edge, spilling inside Dandelion’s warm hole. They both fell back against the wall, panting.

“How many?” Geralt murmured into his ear.

“Hmm?”

“How many do you usually need? How long?”

“Usually a day with you,” said Dandelion with a yawn. “Your stamina is… something else.”He pushed himself off Geralt’s cock with a groan, then sprawled out on the blanket Geralt had laid out earlier. “Geralt, promise me something.”

“Hmmm?”

“Whatever I say, whatever I do…. You’ve got to keep going.”

“Dandelion-“ the bard seemed in good spirits, so Geralt didn’t see why he was talking like that.

“Geralt, I’m giving you my permission to finish this heat, no matter what. Otherwise, I could be trapped here for a week. Do you see? The more you fuck me the sooner we can move on.”

“I’m not going-”

“It’s not rape if I tell you to do it!”

Geralt looked away, swallowing. “Alright,” he said finally.

“Thank you,” said Dandelion. “Honestly, Geralt. It- it will probably be fine. This heat has been, shall we say, less traumatic than most of mine.” He frowned, then said, “Actually, I’ve been thinking,” he said.

“Philosophy at a time like this?” Geralt stood, moving slowly to his bags to fetch water for both of them.

Dandelion snorted. “You always told me that I should let myself enjoy this, Geralt,” he said. “Now I’m the one telling you that.”

He accepted the drink Geralt offered him, continuing on, “Now listen, I know this is inconvenient-”

“Dandelion-”

“Let me finish.” He took a swig of water, then push himself up. “I know you have to worry about Salamandra, and Alvin, and the Scoia'tael, but-” he licked his lips “-Would it be selfish if I forgot about that for a few hours?”

“They’re not your worries, Dandelion.”

“Geralt, how many times must I tell you, your worries are mine. End of discussion.” When Geralt opened his mouth to argue, Dandelion held up a finger, “Hush, let me finish before I’m too horny to think.”

“You’re always too horny to think.”

“Geralt I’ve missed you for years, would it be selfish if I pretended nothing was wrong, just for a few hours? And perhaps- well, perhaps you ought to do the same, if only for the sake of your blood pressure.”

“You’ve been rehearsing your speech, I take it?”

“I’ve been sitting in this cabin for days.”

Geralt studied him. Then shook his head. “I don’t think that would be selfish.”

Dandelion moaned. “Oh, excellent. Because I think I’m getting hard again.”

Snorting, Geralt moved to straddle him, setting the drink aside. “Come here, poet,” he muttered, running his hand through Dandelion’s curls. “It’s your right to enjoy your own body.”

The bard pulled Geralt closer, until their faces were nearly touching. “The Book says I shouldn’t enjoy this.”

“I told you to forget about that book,” Geralt growled.

“I am.” The bard grinned, then slid down and took Geralt’s cock into his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote Sources:  
> \- “I- I need to know it’s you, Geralt,” - Bent out of Shape
> 
> So does one of ya'll wanna come rescue me? There's a bear, a wallaby, and a goddamn tiger all running around without an hour of my house. None of them belong here, so I guess they're escaped pets? 2020 is wild.


	6. Chapter 6

Despite Dandelions questions about enjoying himself, the second round of his heat didn’t go as well.

He burst into tears halfway through, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s neck and bawling. “Please,” he sobbed. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“I don’t want this,” he whined. “I hate this, I hate this. Please. Make it stop.”

“I am,” Geralt promised. He continued to thrust into Dandelion, rubbing his hand up and down his cock. “It will be over sooner if you let me help, remember?”

Tears soaked Dandelion’s face. “I never wanted to be an omega,” he wailed. “Fuck- I- I- please make it stop.”

Geralt shifted so that his face was next to Dandelion’s, offering his scent gland to the bard who immediately began lapping at it with his tongue. That seem to calmed him down a bit, but Geralt could still see the tension in his shoulders. “I don’t know what to say,” he whispered, running his fingers through Dandelion’s hair. “I can’t remember how I helped you before. But I promised you I would keep going.”

“No!” Dandelion struggled to pull away, and even though it pained him, Geralt grabbed him and pulled him back.

 _“Whatever I say. Whatever I do……”_ With a snarl, Geralt tightened his grip. “I can end this poet, but only if you’re good.”

Dandelion nodded, shaking. He buried his face in Geralt’s shoulder again, mumbling softly. Geralt pulled an orgasm from him only a few moments later, and then pulled away to finish himself off with his hand, spilling on the floor.

“Might have to burn the hut,” he said, stroking his hand down Dandelion’s back. “It’s filthier than we arrived.”

The bard managed a weak laugh, but his eyes didn’t open. Geralt brought him water and sat him up, holding it to his lips until he drank, then laying him back down again.

“Geralt,” Dandelion moaned, he opened one eye, peering at the Witcher. “Geralt I- I think I- I need something to drink. _Something strong_.”

“No, you don’t.”

Dandelion tried to push himself up, only fall back down again. “Geralt, I swear to you, I’ll stop, but- but I-” he held out his hands, displaying tremors that racked his arms. “Withdrawal.”

“Dandelion-”

“Geralt- my friend, please. I- my head- I can’t-”

That explained the mood shifts. Geralt groaned and rubbed his face, glancing back at his bags. “I have White Gull, I can give you a drop, no more.”

“Please,” the bard sobbed.

Cursing himself for having offered, Geralt moved to grab the bottle.

Dandelion reached for it but Geralt pulled it back. “I’m going to pin you down,” he said. “I can’t risk you getting more than a drop.” Giving him one drop was a move of desperation, two was risky, three could kill him.

He waited for Dandelion to nod, then ordered, “Put your hands under your back.” Once the bard had done as he was told, Geralt knelt over him, pressing only enough of his weight onto Dandelion’s chest to keep him pinned. “Open your mouth.”

The bard was practically panting as he opened his mouth, sticking out his tongue. Already Geralt was certain this was a terrible idea, but he couldn’t leave him in such straights. _I’ll wean him off the alcohol, a bit at a time,_ he told himself as he carefully poured a drop of the potion onto his finger, then stuck his finger into Dandelion’s mouth.

Dandelion sucked at his finger, getting every last drop of the potion, whimpering as it took effect. Already Geralt could see him relaxing, his shoulders losing their tension.

“Thank you,” whispered the poet.

Geralt nodded and returned the bottle to his bag.

Dandelion crawled into his lap when he returned, burying his face in his shoulder. “Friend,” he mumbled weakly.

“Try to sleep, if you can,” said Geralt.

“Lo-love.”

Geralt snorted. “Hmmm. Sure, Poet, going to be putting that in your next ballad?” But Dandelion was already asleep. "The ballad of how much you love booze, sounds fitting."

Geralt stroked his hair, holding him closer. The longer he spent around him, the more memories were returning. None of them were complete, or even easy to understand, but all of them centered around Dandelion.

* * *

_He could remember the first time he’d met him, helping him to his feet, brushing the dirt off him. Dandelion had been laughing, having narrowly escaped torment at the hands of his lover’s brothers._

_“You’ve saved my life, friend!”_

_“I’m not your friend. I don’t even know your name.”_

_“Why its Dandelion, of course, and you must be Geralt of Rivia, the mighty Witcher.” The bard had smiled, like a cat that had caught a canary. “There, now we can be friends.”_

* * *

_Dandelion standing in the middle of their rented room, staring in surprise. “What the fuck?”_

_He’d only known the Bard a short time before stumbling back to their room, covered in blood. He’d expected the bard to run, but instead Dandelion had appointed himself as Geralt’s caregiver, cleaning him up, bandaging him, and bringing him food._

_When the alderman had tried to get out of paying Geralt, Dandelion had shrieked obscenities until he’d given in._

* * *

_“I will not suffer tonight sober Just because you hid your sausage in the wrong royal pantry.” Dandelion laughing, dragging him to the party anyway, promising him that it wouldn’t be that bad if he would just allow himself to enjoy it._

_Pavetta. Duny._

_The Child Surprise._

_Cirilla. His Ciri._

* * *

_He could remember the Djinn._

_Cradling Dandelion as the Bard coughed blood, rubbing his back as he rode as fast as he could to Rinde._

_“Stay with me you fool,” he’d cursed, then nearly sold his soul to get him back._

* * *

_Remembered wandering the streets of Novigrad, Dandelion screeching at a boy that had thrown a stone at Geralt, threatening to whip him with his own belt._

_Geralt had told him not to worry about it, that it wasn’t worth upsetting anyone, but Dandelion had said, “Of course it’s worth it Geralt, he should know you’re no different than him.”_

_Silly bard._

_Fool._

* * *

_The Dragon Hunt._

_Yennefer, eyes blazing. “Kill it for me Geralt.”_

_Dandelion, timid, but hanging behind him. “Geralt. Geralt it’s beautiful.”_

_He’d saved it._

* * *

_“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.”_

_Startled blue eyes. Blinking. Hurt. Then laughter. “Geralt? Geralt, my friend are you alright? Did you strike your head?”_

_A hand on his shoulder. “Forget, Yennefer, Geralt. Let’s get off this mountain and find a tavern. Oh! Or a whorehouse.”_

* * *

_Brokilon._

_Dandelion had followed him into the forest, certain of his own death, but desperate to get to him._

_“I betrayed you,” the bard had whispered, when he’d thought Geralt was asleep. “Please forgive me.”_

_Geralt had never told him that he had forgiven him._

_He hadn’t thought it was needed._

_Surely Dandelion had understood?_

* * *

_Milva._

_She’d expected Dandelion to turn back. Had thought that the bard would panic and demand to be returned home, giving her a path back to Brokilon._

_But Dandelion had stayed._

* * *

_Cahir._

_He’d wanted to kill the man, but Dandelion had stayed his hand, convincing him that it wouldn’t be worth the blood on his hands._

_“Has killing become a pleasure for you?”_

_NO._

* * *

_Regis._

_Dandelion had been besotted with him up until Geralt had revealed him to be a vampire, at which point Dandelion had nearly fainted._

* * *

_Angouleme._

_He’d thought she was Ciri when they’d first met, but then over time, he’d realized she was nothing more than a small, female Dandelion with her blonde curls and her temper._

_Angry at the world._

_Alone._

_Addicted._

_And then she was gone._

* * *

_They’d all been gone._

_Except Dandelion._

* * *

_Dandelion racing toward him, shoving through a riot, broomstick in hand._

_Falling to his knees next to Geralt. “Stay with me, Geralt. Geralt!”_

_He’d tried to speak, to tell the bard that he would be fine, but his lungs had been flooded with his own blood._

_Drowning._

_“Geralt!”_

* * *

"Geralt!"

His eyes snapped open. Dandelion was staring up at him. "You weren't moving," said the poet, crawling up into his lap. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I blended book and show canon for this one (and even stole a tiny bit from the Polish show). And a bit of headcanon for fun.
> 
> FIGHT ME OKAY.
> 
> I’ve been dying to have book Dandelion react to Netflix Geralt’s temper tantrum on the mountain so here you go.
> 
> There’s a fan theory that Angouleme is Dandelion’s daughter with the Countess de Stael and I swear this theory actually makes a lot of sense if you think about it.


	7. Chapter 7

They were both filthy, sprawled together on the floor of the hut in a sweaty pile. Geralt wasn’t certain he would ever feel clean again, not with combination of dirt, semen, and cum that was caked into him. Dandelion seemed to have gotten the worst of it, though he seemed to be too tired to have noticed. 

After several minutes the bard struggled to push himself up, only to fall back down, exhausted. 

“Easy,” Geralt murmured, “I’m here.” He pushed himself up, shaking his head to clear it. The last few hours of Dandelion’s heat had been blissfully uneventful. The bard had stopped crying, he’d chattered a bit, but seemed to settle. Not quite an active participant, but almost. It almost alleviated Geralt's guilt over drugging him.

He fetched food from his bag but Dandelion shook his head. “Let my stomach settle or I’ll throw it back up,” he said. 

“Let me know when you’re hungry.” He couldn’t get over how thin Dandelion was. His clothes hid it well, but underneath them was a near skeletal frame. 

“I- I’d like to wash up. There’s a stream, but you’ll have to help me.” 

Geralt nodded. He picked Dandelion up in one easy motion, ignoring the bard’s protests that he was perfectly capable of walking. “Save your strength,” he said. 

The stream was deep but slow moving, more of a pond. Geralt lowered Dandelion to the ground, then sat beside him, hopped into the water, then pulled Dandelion in. It was just the right depth for them to sit, as though the previous owners had laid down stones for just that purpose. Perhaps they had. 

Dandelion was nearly asleep, so Geralt washed himself quickly then turned his attention to the bard. “May I?” he asked. 

“Hmmmm.” 

It seemed to be permission. They had no soap, so Geralt had to make do with a wet rag, rubbing it over Dandelion’s skin until he at least appeared clean. Geralt mentally promised to get Dandelion to an inn and call for a bath as soon as they returned to Vizima. Or perhaps Triss' house. Anything to get him properly cleaned.

The bard whimpered when Geralt lifted him to clean between his legs. He pushed one finger inside him and swirled it, hoping it would stop him from leaking semen for hours. 

Once he was as clean as he could get him, Geralt climbed out of the stream and hurried back inside, dressing and returning to Dandelion with clothes for the poet. 

“Geralt.” Dandelion was still soaking in the stream. When Geralt paused his approach, he beckoned him closer, waiting until the Witcher was kneeling beside him.

“Yes, Dandelion?”

“I don’t want you to think about that voice anymore,” he said. “I- I don’t know about it, you’ve not mentioned it, but it’s all right. You didn’t hurt me, Geralt. Truly. You startled me, but I stand by what I said. I trust you.”

Geralt nodded.

“It’s natural to have desires Geralt.” His hand rested on Geralt’s leaving a wet mark on the fabric of his sleeve. “I’ve always thought that it doesn’t matter what you think, or what the voices in your head tell you. What matters most is how you act, and as soon as you realized I was uncomfortable, you stopped. Remember that.”

Geralt only nodded. Ruffling Dandelion’s hair as he stood. “Thank you.”

“Forgive yourself Geralt,” Dandelion called after him. “Even if only as a favor to me.”

Since Dandelion seemed happy in the water, Geralt left him as he packed, making sure both his and Dandelions bags (and the bard’s lute) were ready to go. Only then did he go back outside and ease the poet from the stream.

“Easy, poet,” he said as Dandelion shivered. He dried him with a spare shirt, then pulled his clothes onto him, the bard too weak to do much help.

Even after he was dressed, Dandelion continued shivering, so Geralt helped him inside, then wrapped him in his cloak. The oversized garment only served to make him appear smaller, more delicate.

“Now what?” the bard croaked. He was in no fit state to travel, but Geralt doubted he would be safe if he remained where he was. Since Geralt had to leave, so did Dandelion. 

“We have to go back to Vizima.”

“Ah. Sounds lovely.” Dandelion glanced around, then grabbed his bag, pulling it closer. He opened it and glanced through, as though checking all his belongs were still there. Apparently pleased, he flipped it shut.

“Azar Javed, the mage who attacked Kaer Morhen, is somewhere in the city.”

“How long have you known that, Geralt?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Where’s Alvin?”

Geralt grit his teeth. “Don’t ask.”

Dandelion’s brow furrowed but he said nothing.

The bags packed, Geralt knelt beside him, gently helping him up. He prepared to pick him up again, but the troubadour shook his head. 

“I can- I can walk,” Dandelion protested.

Geralt supported him, one arm wrapped around him, as they made their way from the cabin. It wasn’t far to the dock where Geralt had previously stashed a boat, but long before they reached their destination Dandelion was flagging.

“Give me your bag,” Geralt said. “I’ll carry our things and then come back for you.”

“Is- is that safe?” Dandelion glanced around nervously.

“It’s daylight.” Geralt settled him at the foot of a tree. “I’ll only be a few minutes. If there’s any sign of trouble, start screaming.”

Then he pulled off one of his swords and dropped it at Dandelion feet. “I’ll be back.” After a moment’s consideration he offered Dandelion a bit of dried meat and his waterskin. “Try to eat.”

He ran as quickly as he could, dropping their bags on the ground by the dock, then running back into the woods. Dandelion was waiting where he’d left him, only a few bites missing from the food. “Geralt!” he cried out in relief.

Wordlessly Geralt picked him up, setting him on his back, legs around his waist. By the time he reached the dock for the second time, Dandelion was nearly asleep.

It wasn’t anything fancy, but he’d managed to trade a few orens to a farmer for it. It was just large enough for the two men and their scant belongs. Two boards stretched across it made for seats.

He whimpered as Geralt sat him in the boat, shifting uncomfortably when his ass touched the seat.

“Are you in pain?” Geralt asked worriedly as he placed their belongings in the boat, passing Dandelion his lute.

“A bit,” he said with a wince, shifting to find a more comfortable position. “I- I don’t think I’ve ever moved this much after a heat.”

“Hmmm.” Geralt glanced at his bag, then flipped it open. He didn’t have much in the way of medical supplies, and even less that could be used on a human. But one thing, a salve, stood out.

“Come here,” he said, grabbing the salve and sitting down. “Lean over my lap.”

Dandelion’s eyes gleamed and he raised an eyebrow. “Going to spank me, Geralt?” he teased.

“Funny,” grumbled the Witcher.

Dandelion tried to push himself up, only to lose his balance and end up sprawled in the bottom of the boat. The movement rocked them, and Geralt grabbed the dock to stop the boat from swaying.

“My stomach,” the bard moaned.

“Lay where you are,” said Geralt.

He was able to move much more smoothly than Dandelion, slipping beside him and bending him over the seat he’d fallen off.

“Geralt!”

“No one will see you,” he promised, slipping Dandelion’s leggings down to expose his ass to the cool air. “I’ll hear them before they reach us.”

His skin was red, puffy and warm to the touch. It reminded Geralt of saddle sores, which made sense given the repeated friction from being thrust into. Carefully he swiped the salve over his skin, then spread his cheeks, making sure to rub it into his crack and around his hole. Then he scooped a bit more salve onto his fingers and gently pressed two digits inside Dandelion’s ass.

The bard tensed and hissed. “Easy,” Geralt said, placing his free hand on Dandelion’s lower back. He wasn’t as loose as he’d been during his heat, and Geralt quickly removed his hand, then only used one finger to work the salve inside him, putting extra care to work it into the puffy rim.

Once done he pulled out, rubbed the rest of the cream between Dandelion’s thighs, and then pulled the bard’s pants back up before giving him a pat on his ass. “That ought to help with the pain.”

Geralt helped Dandelion to return to a sitting position, then replaced the salve in his bag. The bard watched with interest as he checked that his potions were all back in their places.

“What was that drink you gave me?” Dandelion asked as Geralt settled him into the boat.

“White Gull,” Geralt said gruffly, tapping the bottle with a finger. “Witcher potion.”

“I rather liked it.”

Geralt froze. He snapped the bag shut and moved it away, making sure it was well out of Dandelion reach. Then he grabbed Dandelion by the front of his shirt, pulling him closer until he was nearly spitting in his face. “Bard,” he snarled, baring his teeth, “Don’t you ever touch that potion.”

“Geralt-”

“Look me in the eyes, Dandelion,” he growled. “If I even think you’ve touched that potion, I’ll strip you naked, tie you to the nearest wall, and flog you within an inch of your life.”

Dandelion laughed, “You-”

“I’ve threatened you before bard, but this time I mean it. Touch that potion and you’ll be writing your next ballad from a sickbed.”

Dandelion’s eyes were wide with shock and Geralt gave him a rough shake. “Am I clear, _Julian_?” Perhaps it was a touch cruel, but it got his point across. If it kept Dandelion alive, it would be worth it.

“Yes, Geralt.”He curled in on himself, looking more miserable than ever. Or perhaps Geralt was just noticing more. There was a lot he hadn’t been noticing, he realized. It couldn’t all be blamed on his amnesia, he still should have seen the signs.

The Witcher sighed, then moved to sit beside Dandelion, letting the bard lean against him for support. “Try to sleep, Dandelion. We’ll be back in Vizima soon, and you need your rest.”

“What about you?”

“I’m a Witcher, I’ll manage.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to [Follow me on Tumblr](https://sunflowersupremes.tumblr.com/). I accept prompts, fangirling, and accusations of character abuse.


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